


Checkmate

by astrospecial



Series: ALL M/M Student Pairings [4]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blow Jobs, Chess, Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Time Skip, Rare Pairings, Strip Chess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:47:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21739327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrospecial/pseuds/astrospecial
Summary: Lorenz and Ashe play a sexy version of chess.
Relationships: Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert
Series: ALL M/M Student Pairings [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1516451
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	Checkmate

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya!  
> This is a part of a series where I'm going to write a fic for each M/M student pairing in FE3H (no Byleth, no Cyril, etc). There will be 78 fics in total.  
> This is fic 4/78!

Lorenz had been playing himself in chess when Ashe walked into the library. He looked down at the board, and with a hesitant smile, asked, “Would you teach me?”

That was the beginning of the end for Lorenz. Ashe was a quick learner and had a passion for chess that grew with every game, but more importantly, he was _charming_ . Somehow, Lorenz had never noticed him before, but it was impossible not to when his eyebrows furrowed when he calculated a difficult move, or when his eyes lit up when he thought of a plan. Any man, Lorenz reasoned, would have difficulty _not_ falling in love when Ashe’s lips shook with the effort to keep a straight face. Would have difficulty not imagining those lips in the morning, at lunch, in bed. 

Moreso, Ashe was persuasive. Lorenz couldn’t say no to these daily chess games, even when it was clearly not good for his heart rate. Couldn’t say no to Ashe waving him over for lunch, couldn’t say no when he asked him to the sauna.

Couldn’t keep his eyes off the sweat bead rolling its way down Ashe’s defined chest, curving into the towel.

At times it seemed like Ashe was aware of the effect he had on Lorenz, like when he would bite his lip before taking a bishop, glancing up only to see Lorenz’s flaming face. Lorenz wondered what he would see on Ashe’s face if he didn’t immediately look down to the board. Pity, he thought, at the cowardly man who chased after every woman but the person he truly desired. 

Then the war happened, and the chess games, the lunches— none of it mattered. Lorenz was a prisoner in the walls of his mansion, once again playing chess against himself, bored to death reading and rereading various letters. Some detailed the Emperor’s march on Fódlan, others were near-illegible complaints, ones of which House Gloucester had neither the money nor resources to solve. The ones he loathed the most were from Claude, who asked him to do the impossible and sway his father to the Leicester cause, and the love notes from his Adrestian betrothed. Letters from both of them went into his fireplace. 

He kept the precious letters in his breast pocket. The ones regarding the search for a ‘grey-haired, freckled, five-three or so tall man.’ There was never good news in them. Yet having Ashe’s description near his heart eased him, even as Gloucester soldiers, gold, and blood went to the cause that could lead to his death. At the same time, if his people _had_ found Ashe, he wasn’t sure what he would do. Chase after him? And then what?

His people never found him, but Lorenz did. He had at first thought his eyes were playing tricks, or that the heat of the horrid battlefield was getting to him. No, a few cut down enemies closer and there he was: taller and bloodier, but it could be no other than Ashe. There wasn’t much of his unit left standing. They either laid dead or were retreating to the general. 

Lorenz had damned the consequences, threw down his lance and dismounted, hands raised in surrender. 

“Is this a trick?” Ashe shouted, flames rising around them. “Is that really you, Lorenz?”

“The one and only Lorenz Hellman Gloucester!”

Ashe took a hesitant step forward, bow raised. The carnage was on a different part of the field, centered where Professor Byleth was tearing through enemies. Lorenz and a few others had branched from them to take care of the eastern commander, while Professor Byleth led the rest to the general.

If Ashe was going to loose an arrow into him, so be it. He’d rather die than kill a classmate, rather die than kill a friend. Rosalind whimpered next to him, stamping her feet; the flames of the scorched battlefield were getting closer and closer. He closed his eyes, prepared for either death or the rush of adrenaline he would feel galloping away.

Instead, something hit his chest— not piercing pain, but the thud of another person. The impact was so hard he had felt it through his armor.

“Ouch,” Ashe said, into his breastplate. “Even your armor is hot. Let’s go.” 

Lorenz had lifted Ashe onto Rosalind (couldn’t help himself) and they had rejoined with the rest of the army. Thank Goddess he had decided to defect. If it hadn’t been Lorenz who spotted him first, then what would have happened? Would he have been another one of the faceless bodies strewn about the battlefield? 

He didn’t want to think about things like that, and if Ashe thought about it, he didn’t say anything.

On that first day after Ashe defected, Ashe, freshly washed, had approached him at the mess hall. Lorenz had taken to eating his lunch in his room, but before Lorenz even had the chance to get his dinner, Ashe was running up to him. Smiling like Lorenz’s father wasn’t a traitor to their cause.

“I wanted to thank you,” Ashe said. “For not killing me.”

Lorenz didn’t jump, but it was a near thing. “I would never—“

“I know. But if I hadn’t gone with you, I’d probably be dead now anyway. Thanks for caring about me.”

His cheeks were burning. He rubbed under his nose, trying to school his grin in check. When he brought his hand down, his lips were wavering between a frown and a smile. “It’s no problem at all.” 

Ashe chuckled a little, the sound like a hymn from five years ago. The memory of their voices, rising up in almost perfect harmony and unison, was enough to make his eyes smart with the beginning of tears. Then Ashe said, “Do you remember when we used to play chess all those years ago? Do you wanna play again?”

The only answer Lorenz had was _yes_.

—

They played and played some more. It seemed like any free moment they had they were somewhere with a board. Ashe had improved a lot since those early days, could press Lorenz into a corner that he could barely escape. The sloppiness of Ashe’s playstyle had almost disappeared.

One night, they had just finished a game in Ashe’s room, cross-legged on the floor, both in their nightclothes. Ashe won with only a couple of pawns and a promoted queen. Aside from a few blunders, it was the most sound game Lorenz ever saw him play.

“I told you I was practicing,” Ashe said as he set the board. “I was thinking. A few years ago, me an’ some buddies played a variation of chess. There _may_ have been alcohol involved, but I think it’ll be plenty fun sober. What do you say?”

Lorenz wasn’t sure how to describe his smile, but it was nothing short of devilish. Something curled in his stomach when he looked at it. 

“I could grab some wine if it’s so imperative. But I’ll play.”

“I have trouble enough beating you! I can’t expect to win while drunk!” Ashe laughed. “Okay, here. I’ll demonstrate the rules. Everything about the game is the same, except for when you take a piece.” Ashe brought one of Lorenz’s pawns halfway across the board and had it take one of his. After he set his own pawn on the side of the board, he spoke: “For each piece you lose, you lose an article of clothing of your choice. Because I lost a piece…” He took off his glove. “Rules sound good?”

Lorenz looked at the glove dangling in Ashe’s fingers. It was a bad idea. No good could come from them both getting naked. At the same time, Ashe’s smile was very convincing. And after all, he had already agreed. 

“You should get a blanket, Ashe, because you are about to get very chilly.”

Ashe snorted and slipped his glove back on. “Says the guy who just lost. Plus, a blanket would count. Black or white?”

After the opening moves, Ashe had lost both his gloves (he tore them both off for one pawn) and his socks. In turn, Lorenz let his gloves fall to the growing pile, along with his belt. Aside from the opening, the new rules gave Lorenz an uncharacteristic defensiveness in his playstyle. Where he would usually sacrifice a piece, he found himself hanging back, waiting for Ashe’s move. 

He didn’t have to wait long. Ashe made his moves in concession, barely waiting to think. His knight took his rook’s pawn, an uncharacteristically poor decision, and Lorenz took the knight with his rook. It was either Lorenz’s undershirt or his pants. Lorenz opted for his undershirt, and once the cool air hit his arms, a shiver wracked his body.

Ashe stared at the knight in Lorenz’s hand.

“Do you want to stop playing?”

“No,” Ashe said quickly. “Just thinking I should have worn more.” And then he wiggled off his pants.

Lorenz paled, averted his eyes and looked back as quickly. Ashe’s shirt was far too long on him, but his night shorts still should have been visible. Instead, there was nothing but pale skin, orange in the flickering lamplight, shifting underneath Lorenz’s eyes.

Ashe cleared his throat. Lorenz tore his eyes away from the expanse of his legs to his bright red face. Both the freckles and the blush snaked their way down his neck. He wanted to kiss them all, suck dull purple marks on them. “Um, I know it might be ill-advised since we’re at war and all,” Ashe said with a slight stammer, “but I sleep naked. And since you met me here and I was ready for bed—“ 

“Ashe,” Lorenz said slowly, processing the night. So that explained the twenty-second lapse before Ashe opened the door. But they had planned this meeting at lunch today, and he wasn’t late or early— Lorenz prided himself on being punctual to the supreme, after all. “You’re saying you forgot our meeting and went to bed. Then, after I knocked, you dressed in your gloves and socks but forgot your undershorts?” 

Lorenz had been uncomfortably hard while they played, and this was only make it worse. But he couldn’t stop imagining it: Ashe pulling on his socks, his gloves, full-body on display, all while he stood outside the door bouncing from heel to heel in the late autumn cold. At the same time, his stomach twisted with the knowledge that his friend’s misfortune was so arousing. 

Ashe groaned and buried his head in his hands. “No, I didn’t forget.”

There was something ridiculous in having this conversation without a shirt. A second later, Ashe’s words still ringing in his ears, understanding bloomed in Lorenz’s mind. It sent a jolt through him. “Let’s continue the game.”

“What?” Ashe looked up with open-mouthed shock on his face. “You actually—“

He moved his bishop to take a pawn that hadn’t moved. A useless turn— he’d lose his bishop— but this whole game had been Ashe’s gambit. But Lorenz finally felt he had the strategic advantage. 

Ashe stared at the offending pawn in danger, hand hovering over the board. Lorenz watched him, wetted his dry lips, wished he had water. Whatever move he made next would give Lorenz his answer, would confirm or deny his little theory.

He castled, and without pause, Lorenz took the pawn. 

Ashe took off his shirt.

His chest, sprinkled with scars and freckles alike, was mesmerizing, but more interesting than that was his dick, which seemed to grow redder and harder under Lorenz’s eyes. He’d never seen another man’s dick before, had never had sex at all, and he wasn’t sure what he even _wanted_ to do. But he had to do something.

“There. You caught me.” Ashe bulked up his knees to cover himself. “I lost. You won. Would you please leave so I can die of embarrassment?”

“Take my bishop.”

“Lorenz, if this is a joke—“

“It isn’t. Not to me.”

Hesitantly, Ashe took his bishop, and the moment his hand left the piece, Lorenz was taking off his pants and underwear all in one.

“Ah,” Ashe said. Lorenz resisted the urge to hide, even as the heat in his gut culminated in his dick hardening completely. “I didn’t think you…” Ashe swallowed, leaning forward, legs spreading a little, exposing the part of himself that made Lorenz’s mouth go dry. “Do you wanna—“

Lorenz was on him in a second. Dimly he was aware that the pieces were scattered across the floor, but he didn’t care. Ashe’s mouth was warm and his skin cold and soft underneath his roaming hands. 

Once they broke apart for air, they scrambled to the bed. Lorenz’s heart could have beaten out of his chest. He wanted to memorize the moment, how Ashe’s breath left him in sultry pants, how anywhere Lorenz’s fingers had touched was pink. But he couldn’t think past the next second with Ashe’s hands tracing patterns on his chest.

“How do you wanna do this?” Ashe asked quietly. “I have lube. I kinda wanna fuck you really bad, but I don’t—“

“I’ve never done this before.” His face burned in mortification. All his life he had tried to act suave, but there was no hiding from it here. The thought of Ashe fucking him (since when could he be so crude?) filled him with dark anxiety.

Ashe’s face fell. “With no one?”

“Never.”

“Oh, Lorenz...you deserve your first time to be special. Instead, I seduced you with some silly game!”

The admission escaped him in a whisper, his mouth moving at the same rate as his heart. “I was saving myself for marriage.”

“Even worse!”

“Ashe.” Lorenz didn’t want to go into the long and arduous process of explaining his relationship to his betrothed. Even now, he was feeling slightly sick imagining it. He was desperate for Ashe to understand his meaning, and he grasped Ashe’s hands in his for fear that, if he didn’t, he would vanish into thin air. “I want you. Five years ago, I wanted you. But I— what you said—“ 

Ashe stared at his bed. “I trust you, Lorenz. And I get it. I didn’t really have the same problem—“ he bit his lip, sheepish note in his upturned eyes. “But if we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna take it slow.” That sheepish look transformed into a sparkling determination. Goddess, were his eyes always so green? “I’m gonna do something for you. Lay back. If it’s too much, tell me to stop.”

Lorenz did as he was told, letting his head fall back on the mountains of pillows and blankets strewn on Ashe’s bed. No wonder he slept naked. 

Ashe hovered over him on all fours. His face was in shadow, eyes dark. “I love your hair,” he said and ran a hand through it smoothly. “It looks so good grown out like this.”

“My father made me have my old one,” Lorenz grumbled, briefly taken away into teasing memories, ones where he had to double down on his haircut to save his pride. 

Ashe kissed whatever he was going to say next off his lips. Then he kissed down his chest, to his hips, like he wanted to kiss every bruise and scar from the war away. After pressing two searing kisses right below his navel, he took Lorenz’s hard cock completely into his mouth.

Lorenz’s hips jolted, a groan escaping him. Ashe’s hands pressed him back into the bed, giving him no escape from the delicious heat of his mouth. It was nothing like the times he would jerk himself off in the dead of night, biting back his pants. Here he had no choice but to be loud, moaning broken pleas as Ashe rubbed soothing circles at his hips. 

When Lorenz forced his eyes open, Ashe was looking up at him through his long eyelashes, his lips shiny around his cock and his hand steadily moving on his own. Lorenz couldn’t warn him before he came, tearing through him as his vision went spotty. The only thing keeping him grounded in reality was Ashe’s fingernails on his hips. 

What Lorenz saw after blinking his eyes open was almost enough to send him into another frenzy: Ashe licking his lips, throat bobbing as he wiped his hand on one of his many blankets. 

Lorenz could only breathe, his mind blank. Ashe crawled up next to him and flopped down on the bed. Somehow, he found the strength to his voice work for something but moans.

“That was phenomenal.”

“No gag reflex,” Ashe said, tapping his cheek. “I liked it too.”

“During the war, when you played that game, did you—”

“I had to be ready to wow you, didn’t I?”

“I’m not complaining,” Lorenz said through a yawn and wrapped himself around Ashe. In turn, Ashe covered them some blankets. “I’m happy you’re here with me.”

“Lorenz…” Ashe buried himself in his chest. “Let’s do this again sometime.”

Lorenz never agreed faster in his life.

—

They were playing in the library— a normal game, although their late-night activities were splattered across Ashe’s neck— when Sylvain sat down and watched them, offering annoying tips to Ashe whenever he thought it necessary. 

“Hey,” Sylvain said after Lorenz captured Ashe’s knight with his pawn. “Pawns only capture in diagonals.”

Sylvain might have been offering stellar advice to Ashe, but there was no way he knew chess better than Lorenz. He’d been playing for ten years! “No—“

“He’s right,” Ashe butted in, a sly smile on his face. “I got corrected the first time I played with someone else. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want you to feel bad.” 

“Want me to go get a rulebook to prove it?” Sylvain asked, grinning.

“No,” Lorenz gritted out. “That won’t be necessary.”

It didn’t matter that Ashe won more in chess than he lost. The cute giggle he let out whenever he won like he was surprised his fantastic tactics worked was worth far more than Lorenz’s pride.

**Author's Note:**

> It feels so good to post something on here once again! (Writer's block SUCKS) Luckily, I started playing chess again, and immediately my mind went to Lorenz. 
> 
> Anyways, thank you for reading! Let me know if you notice any errors or any improvements I could make. Writing smut gives me some difficulty (lol) and I edited this one quickly.
> 
> \--  
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